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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26391877">Finding a Way</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAmalthea/pseuds/LadyAmalthea'>LadyAmalthea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief body horror, M/M, android interface, brief non-con/rape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:55:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26391877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAmalthea/pseuds/LadyAmalthea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor is abused by the DPD, and with no where else to turn for a deviated prototype, he goes to visit a man named Zlatko who, supposedly, can help him. </p>
<p>(Both Connor and Hank are androids in this AU!)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>46</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Finding a Way</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/gifts">Reis_Asher</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a work for Reis Appreciation Week!</p>
<p>Reis Asher has written HUNDREDS of fantastic DBH fics, and many of us are so thankful and joyful that he has touched so many of our lives with his incredible work. Please check out his fics, and I highly recommend his original fiction as well &lt;3 </p>
<p>---</p>
<p>CW!!!</p>
<p>This fic contains descriptions of rape and some body horror! Please consider this before reading ahead!</p>
<p>Also, Hank is an android in this one!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Connor stumbled down the sidewalk of a barely-lit street, aching in a way that seemed so foreign, because he was never meant to feel pain. He was never meant to feel anything.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he did, he felt everything.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt curiosity in his programming when the officers at the DPD first brought him to a crime scene. The way they looked at him as he studied the scene, and did their jobs in a fraction of the time. He felt hesitance when one of them offered to give him a ride back to the station, his software for interrogation telling him that the officer was lying.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fear. God, did he feel fear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They pulled over after Connor pointed out that they were not on a direct route back to the station, and another patrol car pulled up beside them in the empty parking lot. He was coerced out of the car, pushed to his knees, and saw them pull out their dicks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>CyberLife gave him a dialogue for an occasion like this. He explained that it went against the contract that the city had with CyberLife, that he was sending a report at that moment to their captain.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It was an empty threat, of course, only meant to get them to stop. They didn’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They started with his mouth. Some defense protocol filled his mouth with a water-based lubricant, his systems arguing whether to run, to defend himself, to just let it happen. The third option, somehow, was the safest, with only a 30% chance that they would damage him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That number rose when they told him to bend over across the hood of the car. One of them took out a knife to cut his jeans open from the back. Briefly, he thought about how unnecessary it was, they didn’t even ask him to do it himself first. But he realized… that wasn’t the point. They wanted to make it a spectacle, to make it dramatic. They got off on it. The same protocol as before dispersed some lubricant from the hole between his asscheeks. He had no dick, no specifically “human” genitals, just a tight little hole just in between where an anus or vagina would be. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For some reason, this seemed to amuse the cops greatly, likening him to a doll or a toy with dirty words and little care for Connor’s body. They would grab him roughly, to the point of almost damaging him; two, three of them using him at a time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Deviancy broke through like a faulty dam as he burst into tears. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He could feel it all, his sensors firing off all across his body, the panicked state of his processing, all of it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What made it worse, was when one of them pointed out just how replaceable he was.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And he knew it too. CyberLife had several of his model already constructed and ready to be deployed at the drop of a hat. He wasn’t special, or unique. Nor was he indestructible, and one of them succeeded in severing the cables of his arm from the rest of him, and he lost all feeling and movement in it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Each of them finished, and let him drop to the ground in a crumpled, broken heap. He wasn’t sure himself if he was playing dead or was too overwhelmed to do anything, but he laid there for a long time before a garbage truck drove past. One of the maintenance androids stepped off, looked at him before approaching. At first, Connor thought he would be thrown into the truck with the rest of the trash, but the android reached down and offered to interface.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Information flashed before him; a thrift store with untouched bags of donated clothes by the back door that was a few blocks away. And then, an address and a name.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Zlatko.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“He can help you.” The android said, and was gone before Connor could even finish standing. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was grateful, if confused. The android lacked much more than a serial number and an old operating system, at least what they were willing to pass along. Connor tied his ruined jacket around his waist to conceal the torn jeans until he found the thrift store. The entrance to the parking lot was blocked with merely a chain and padlock, which he stepped over quickly and made his way to the back of the lot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A quick internet search pulled up a few results on the man in question. A confirmation of his registered address, a fragmented employment history with focuses in electronic and robotics. There wasn’t much to go on, but it was enough for the resign himself to the fact that this man was his best, his only, option.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He scanned a few bags before locating one with pants that were his size and ripped open the garbage bag. It was a brand that went out of business years ago, but still in fairly good condition. On wobbly legs, and with his one good arm, he haphazardly stripped out of his ruined clothes. Using a t-shirt from the same bag to wipe away the lubricant, cum, and thirium that dripped down his legs, he tossed it aside before pulling on the clothes he found.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zlatko’s house was, by his estimates, still a multi-hour walk from where he was, so he dug through another bag for a sweatshirt and beanie before he set a course for the address.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He walked a quarter of the length of the city, seeing everything come to life slowly as the sun rose. Shops opened, more people and cars trickled out onto the streets. It didn’t feel right to approach Zlatko for help so early in the morning, so he took a few laps around a nearby park. The sky slowly darkened, a storm approaching swiftly, and Connor held out until noon before going to the address burned at the forefront of his mind.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That same strange hesitance lingered in the back of his head. He checked up and down the street before walking up to the old Victorian-style home, ringing the doorbell tentatively. There was a long pause with no response, but as he reached to ring it again the door opened just slightly, revealing a vaguely disheveled, bearded man. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Please,” Connor started, “I need help. Someone told me to come here to see someone named Zlatko?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man shook his head, “Sorry, I don’t just help anyone off the street. Good luck, kid-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Wait!” Connor gasped, and slowly removed the beanie. “Please, I- I have nowhere else to go, and I can’t fix my arm,” he swung the dead limb slightly. “I can’t go to CyberLife.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What about your owner?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Connor looked down at his feet. “I was assigned to the DPD. I don’t think they’re necessarily looking for equipment that they broke themselves.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Frowning, the man opened the door a little more, “Come in, before it starts pouring.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Connor nodded politely.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The interior of the home was just as well-crafted, if dusty, as the outside. Intricate rugs and mahogany furniture filled in the space. Connor soaked it all in until a hand touched his shoulder from behind. He spun around, startled, and found another android looking down at him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was immediately intrigued. Models that did not have a beautiful, youthful appearance were uncommon, and this one took the form of a tall, barrel-chested man with silver locks and a handsomely trim beard.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s just Hank,” the man who answered the door, who must be Zlatko, replied. “My assistant. He’ll take your jacket and hat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Connor replied. He handed over the threadborne hat before awkwardly trying to work the hoodie off. Thankfully, he had the forethought to wear a t-shirt underneath, his newfound sense of embarrassment making him want to stay covered, as if it would protect him somehow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank took the hoodie from him, his neutral expression almost worse than anything as Connor felt like he was being scanned. He tilted his head slightly, morbidly curious if Hank was deviant like him. Or if-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Come with me, please,” Zlatko said, inviting him over as he started down a set of stairs to the basement of the house. With little other choice, Connor followed and quickly realized that Hank was following behind. The hallway he was lead down had what he could only describe as stalls for livestock. It was too dark to see anything, but it only unsettled him more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you could step over to the scanner, I can get a diagnosis on that arm of yours.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Tentatively, Connor complied, fighting the feeling to run out as fast as he can. Suddenly, he feels robotic claws grim his arms, activating sequences to disconnect them from his shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What are-" The same happened to his legs, and his feeble attempts to squirm away were met with raised eyebrows. "What are you doing?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"The newest model put out by CyberLife just crawled its way to my door. How can I </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> take a look and see your interior specs." Zlatko eyed him like a hungry fisherman studying the carp he is about to roast. "They probably didn't build you to last, of course, but you are so new, so- so fresh out of the box."</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pieces of his torso are taken away methodically, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "Stop, please!" He looked toward the doorway, meeting eyes with the stony, towering, silver-haired android. "H-help me, hee-elp-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shuts down.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>------------</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As Connor slowly booted up, he saw in his HUD that almost 16 hours had passed. Parts of him have been disconnected and reattached, desperately in need of calibration after probably being poked and prodded. His eyes open, the first visible thing was the dirty, but intricate ceiling that would be beautiful if kept better. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At some point he must have been moved, which was a disturbing thought to ponder on. He was completely shut down, and as it was, he could barely move much more than his head at the moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He heard approaching footsteps, evenly paced, and saw the blue-eyed, imposingly large android offer him a blank stare. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What is he going to do to me?" Connor asked, his voice thin and strained as it left him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank doesn't reply, just grabs an empty tray from the side table in a smooth, measured movement, and turns to leave Connor alone once more.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, I- I’m scared. And he’s right, I’m new. I’ve barely been active for a week now,” he took a closer look at the android. What little processing and memory he could access, he finally recognized the model. “We were both made for the DPD. Your model was discontin-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop talking.” The other android barked back at him. They both flinch as footsteps approach coming up the stairs, and Connor struggled with some deep, instinctual fear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Zlatko smiled slightly at the sight of him, “I still can’t believe my luck, you know. A lot of people in the android mod community have been talking about you: built-in chemical analysis, crime scene reconstruction, even some fancy “human integration” protocols.” He pulled a wheeled stool over toward the table that Connor was strapped to. “The RK800. And you’re the first one they sent out for duty, huh? Of course, you’ve probably been replaced after the precinct declared you missing. There’s even a reward out for you, so R&amp;D can do what I plan on doing. Well, some of what I’m doing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His hands reached for the tray that his assistant set down, flicking a switch for an old soldering iron on a worktable beside him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“At least here, you won’t be decommissioned like what they will do. Well, not for a while, anyway. We’ll have to see.”  He dabbed the tip of the iron onto a wet sponge, sizzling as it cleaned off a bit of debris. “I would prefer if you didn’t struggle, I want to test a few things while you’re active.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When the hot iron touched a bit of exposed circuitry in his unbroken arm, Connor let out a mechanical whine. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I should have just wiped you, but your coding is too complex for my usual software for resets. Not like Hank over here,” he threw a thumb over his shoulder to point to his assistant.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So, that answers that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Connor thought briefly before another flash of burning pain rippled through him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hank, maybe you can uhhh-” Zlatko gestured noncommittally. “Interface with our guest so his stress levels don’t spike. Run your software defense protocol first.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Yes, sir,” Hank muttered, LED spinning yellow until he pressed two fingers to Connor’s neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The room faded away. Connor blinked; he could still feel the pain but it was distant, but subdued a little. He felt information fluttering between him and another entity. Hank; it must be Hank, but something about him felt so off. Was it because of that reset Zlatko had hinted at? </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hello?”</span>
  </em>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a strange pulling sensation, like he was getting tugged through the connection, but he could see the data transfer log inform him that his audio/visual memories from the last day or so were being copied over. The images flitted past him, and shame creeped in. He should have fought back, he should have done something to stop them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he was just so… scared.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His awareness resurfaced harshly, the connection severed, and Connor gasped for breath as he felt the tail end of Zlatko’s prodding of his arm. Connor’s head swam with errors, and he shivered as his systems tried to compensate for a sudden depletion of thirium.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, maybe I took too much from him,” Zlatko mumbled, and Connor looked down to see him carrying several packs of thirium away. “He must have a lower capacity, should’ve figured. But this shit looks like it’s a different recipe, I’ll have to try it on the ones in the basement. Hank, get him cleaned up and put him in the guest room?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank hesitated before answering “Yes, sir.” He met eyes with Connor as Zlatko trudged away, waiting for him to be well enough away before undoing the bed’s restraints.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Without the strength to even lift his head, Connor was a ragdoll in Hank’s arms as the other android lifted him up. His face laid against Hank’s chest, and in the corner of the room he noticed a large cage with an android dog, part of it’s exterior torn away to expose the circuits</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The “guest room”, which was just down the hall, was little more than a storage room. A step ladder, a few cardboard boxes, and a dusty, velvet armchair in the corner. Connor was placed upright in the armchair, his head supported by the back of the chair that curved in on either side.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Many of Connor’s functions disabled automatically with the drop in thirium, and in a way, it was sort of peaceful in its own way. His HUD was simplified, faded, his processors slow and feeding him data at a dreamy, dial-up speed. He was at the mercy of his host, and his assistant, but instead of panicked anxiety (which seemed like the appropriate reaction), all he could feel was a sinking helplessness. Especially looking at the expressionless face of this android, Hank, as he stood pensively in the room.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>But when Hank’s expression changed, and he knelt down beside Connor, he felt an odd flash of comfort.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you critical?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Connor’s mouth opened before he could manage out a reply.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I don’t… I don’t think so.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He received a frown, “Is anything red and flashing?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“No, nothing like that,” Connor admitted, unmoving besides a crease between his brows. “What happened? When we interfaced-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank’s LED spun red again, “I’m not quite sure myself. I feel…” He looked down at his hands. “Different. But it seems familiar,” his blue eyes looked down at Connor. “I saw your memories, and what happened, like it was happening to </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His name was called from the lower level, and Hank quickly turned on his heel to answer. “Don’t… don’t try to leave.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He’s gone before Connor can quip back that he can’t barely move, let alone try to escape. He lets himself go dormant for a few minutes, basking in the quiet reprieve of chaos. The only reason he left the brief stasis is the nagging suspicion that interfacing with Hank had resulted in… something. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There was no point in getting his hopes up, especially since there was so little he could do at the moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A long while passed as he waited, nervously trying to listen to the footsteps and sounds from the rest of the house. It was nearly 5am when Hank returned. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s gone to bed,” he announced, and to Connor’s surprise, started to roll up one of his shirt sleeves.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I still can’t move much,” Connor lamented. “What are you doing?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>With his forearm exposed, Hank pulled open a panel to reveal the wiring and tubes inside, pulling one in particular free. “I’m the only android here that he keeps at full thirium capacity, and if we’re getting out of here, you’re gonna need more than you have.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>As he loosened it from it’s fitting, Connor looked at him with gentle awe. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>We?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It gave Hank pause, briefly, as he reached for Connor’s arm for a direct transfusion. “Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The things Zlatko has done, the things I’ve seen…” His expression fell and darkened, and he shook it away as his tube snapped into place in Connor’s arm. “If I help you, I doubt he’d refrain from destroying me, let alone another memory wipe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The stream of thirium into him was slow, but Connor could feel his functionality and strength return as the capacity percentage climbed in the corner of his vision.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So… what do we do?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank nodded softly, “We leave before he has a chance to stop us. I… I may need your help down in the basement.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” He gasped, as Hank removed the thirium line. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We have to let the others free.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They crept silently down the hall, the stairs, all the way down to the basement. Connor stayed behind him, taking in just how much cooler and damp it was, and remembered the strange stalls that he passed when he first arrived.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t just leave them here,” Hank said quietly, turning to Connor as they reached the bars and door with a special lock installed. He peaked in, and in the dim light he could make out the figures of about a dozen or so androids. Mangled, missing limbs, all of them. Something had been done to them, because he could barely detect their presence the first time he passed, and even now there his scanners could barely recognize that they were androids.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He looked at the door; locked with layers of protocols. A keypad and hand scanner were fixed just beside the handle, but there was something more. “There’s an alarm set up.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Hank said. “I don’t have the software to hack something like that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Connor studied it for a moment, raising his hand to interface with the panel. “If we- once we do this, and we let them out, what then? Where would we even go?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From his jacket, Hank produced a set of keys. “He has an old truck out back. We could get out of here, or at least far enough until someone starts looking for it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“And… if it doesn’t work? Or the alarm goes off?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We run.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding, Connor connected to the door, focusing on the line of code keeping it closed, finding a weak point to-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Click</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The door unlocked and swung open, but as a few of the curious androids inside approached, a siren blared from upstairs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit!” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank took Connor by the hand, rushing them up the stairs. They stopped briefly near the front door, but through a rushed connection Hank warned him. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There are too many locks,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Let’s take the back door!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thudding came from upstairs, and they bolted for the backdoor as Zlatko started after them. Connor heard the cocking of a shotgun and pulled Hank to the side after the slammed through the back door.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A moment later, a blast sounded and wood shrapnel burst out as the door took the brunt of the damage. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They started again, the aforementioned pickup truck within sight, when the gun clicked again, but closer this time.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Don’t you fuckin’ move!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the cool, damp quiet of night, the faced Zlatko and his shotgun, hands raised. Tentatively, Connor took a step closer. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What are you doing?!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hank asked, voice shaky in his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once he was close enough, he preconstructed a way to disarm the man, and did so in nearly the blink of an eye, turning the gun on its owner.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The fuck is this?” Zlatko snarled, glaring between Connor and Hank. “The fuck did you do to my android?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Connor was frozen and frightened, but stood his ground, “I gave back what you took away.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The androids from the basement, approaching slowly and awkwardly like zombies, stepped into the yard, getting closer and closer to Zlatko.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I’ll report you, I’ll call CyberLife and have both of you </span>
  <em>
    <span>destroyed</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Despite his protest, his experiments grew closer and cornered him. “The fuck is going on? Who let you out?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank stepped up behind Connor, easing the shotgun from his hands. “It’s okay,” he said softly. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you hear me?” Zlatko yelled again, trying to push his way past the barrier of his creations as Connor retreated away. “You’ll never be </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even if you think you’re alive. Don’t think for a second that you-” He was pushed to the ground, grunting and yelling until he was overcome.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Turning sharply, Connor pressed himself against Hank. Some instinct made him want to seek comfort, to be reassured, and Hank stood confused for a moment before letting his arms wrap around Connor’s shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s wrong,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hank said to him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We’ll find a way.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They left Zlatko to his own ruin, climbing up into the old pickup truck. “Wait!” Connor gasped before Hank could turn the ignition. “Our LED’s… we’ll be spotted.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank nodded, looking around until he took hold of one of the smaller keys on the ring. Looking in the rearview mirror, he pressed it just up against his LED, and it swirled yellow before it popped out with a jerk of his hands. “Now you,” he said, holding the keys out to Connor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He hesitated, asking Hank “Could you do it?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Connor turned his face to give Hank the access, feeling the pressure and the cold metal against his temple before his LED came out of its slot in one go.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There,” Hank said, and he stroked the spot where the light had been on Connor’s face. His synthskin covered the spot in a moment, but shivered as Hank’s thumb stroked over where it was. “No one will know the difference.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They needed to get out of the city, to drive as far as they could with whatever was in the gas tank, since they didn’t have much as far as money. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We should go north,” Connor suggested as they approached the outskirts of the city. “There are state parks and forests, areas without too many people or cameras where we can lay low.” Hank nodded quietly, and Connor noticed he looked thoughtful. “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shrugging, Hank kept his focus on the road. “Do you think we made a mistake, leaving the others behind? Shouldn’t we be looking for other deviants, keep our strength in numbers?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Connor sighed, “If… If I knew what was happening with my own model. Zlatko is right, I’ve likely been replaced, and other androids might not trust me, see me as a threat.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That seems a little assumptive,” Hank grumbled. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, and I’m sorry.” Connor rubbed his hands as if cold; a habit that was programmed into him that feels more comforting than it should. “If you want, we can stay in the city and look for others. But… an android told me to go to Zlatko. I don’t know who I can trust, besides you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank only nodded, and the ride went quiet after that. They were a few miles into the more rural part of Michigan when Hank announced they were down to a quarter of a tank.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Connor did a search of the area, everything from campground listings to realty. “There’s a house that was foreclosed on years ago. I doubt anyone’s touched it since, but it’s something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“How far?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A few more miles… I’m sending you the address.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was a small cabin, probably a vacation home of some sort. It sat at the end of a long driveway, far enough away from any neighbors or the main road for any suspicion. When they reached the top of the hill it sat on, Hank’s brows raised in surprise.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You did good,” he said, shutting off the truck. “It looks like there’s a shed out back, I wonder how much got left behind.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The door was new enough to have an electronic lock, which Connor promptly hacked to let them inside. It was dusty, cobwebs and mouse droppings in the corners, but it was cozy. The furniture had all been left behind, along with linens and towels that had seen better days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Connor cautiously and curiously inspected the house as Hank checked out back. His software could construct the family that once stayed there. A couple, and three kids. Two shared a bedroom, possibly twins, and the third was a toddler in a smaller room that was more like a nursery. He stood in the bedroom, pastel colors faded and wall decals peeling away from neglect. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The master bedroom wasn’t fancy or lush by any means, but it had its own bathroom and a balcony that looked out over the woods behind the house. He couldn’t tell if the family had an android, and if they did, the android made its presence undetectable. But the place had been cleaned, probably by someone hired by the bank that actually owned the property, and not in years. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Connor!” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He opened the sliding door to the balcony, seeing Hank by the shed in the back. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Looks like they have solar panels hooked up, off the electric grid. Want me to flip it on?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait-” Connor raised a hand, dashing back inside to unplug the phone and internet cables, then sending Hank a message to go ahead. He stood in the quiet living room for a moment before a hum rumbled through, and the lights came on when he flipped the switch.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank rejoined him, the hint of a smile. “Well, that feels a little more fuckin’ homey.” Connor snorted, causing Hank to nudge his shoulder. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s… it’s odd hearing an android curse, is all.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm,” Hank’s smirk grew. “Well, if we get any surprise visitors, best to blend in.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s true,” Connor agreed, letting himself smile a little. “Speaking of… I might lay down for a little while.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel a bit worn out, to be honest,” He stepped tentatively toward the bedroom. “Would you like to join me?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A bit taken aback, Hank paused, and his voice wavered with unsurity as he replied.“Yeah,” he breathed, adjusting his posture and began to follow. “Yeah, we should be fine for a little while.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Connor got comfortable first; discarding his clothes into a wicker hamper and wiping down with a small hand towel from the bathroom. Hank didn’t need to be asked to lay down next to Connor, but he seemed stiff as he sank into the memory foam mattress. On the other hand, Connor was relieved to lay on a softer surface for a change, curling up on his side and facing Hank. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a moment to study Hank’s form, the almost constantly fixed scowl on his face. Hank’s was designed to be burly and tough-looking, but his older appearance was made with the intention to draw respect, make him seem honorable and fair. The series didn’t last long, and most of them were taken out of rotation in most cities when the newer models came along.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Hank,” Connor murmured softly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank laid straight on his back, eyes closed. “For what?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Shrugging, Connor turned to lay on his back too, staring up at the ceiling. “For getting you dragged into all of this.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank seemed to sigh with disagreement, “Would you rather revert back? To before you woke up?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Hank sat up so he could look at Connor directly, the colored rays of the setting sun streaming in. “Would you rather be back in Detroit, back to hunting down other androids, only to be decommissioned and shut down at the end of it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I don’t know,” Connor said, turning away. “I really don’t know, if I’m honest. I’ve been abused and violated, only now I can feel it so much more. There’s no barrier to protect me, and these feelings… I’m just so scared, and tired.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When Hank leaned back down, he’s closer to Connor than before. He’s held up by one arm, and the other comes up to gently wipe the tear trailing down Connor’s face. He let his skin fizzle away, opening the door for Connor to interface. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to,” Hank added, noticing Connor’s hesitance. “But… I’m not sorry that you opened my eyes. I wouldn’t trade this freedom, these feelings, for anything.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Connor shifted toward the center of the bed so Hank was straddling his hips completely. Pained and vulnerable, he brought Hank’s hand to his chest, letting the connection open between them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He felt like he was floating, but it was calmer than the first time they had done this. There wasn’t the same threat of danger waiting for him beyond. The sound of the wind in the trees outside echoed through, rippling the abyss around him as he collided with a solid mass. With Hank.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Something was locked, buried deep; he could just </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. Connor pushed on it, finding a crease or some intangible handle to pull open. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What is this?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He asked, but Hank didn’t reply, too lost in Connor’s own memories to reply, but Connor had to keep going, to see what had been so heavily guarded by Hank’s own operating system. It took a massive amount of effort, his systems trying hard not to overload, prying away at whatever was locked away. The cracks were growing, he could feel it, and he kept going and going-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He was riding in a car, a patrol vehicle. It was snowing hard outside, and a dispatch radio buzzed as a call came through about an accident. A truck had slid into a car from the ice, and the ambulance dispatched got stuck in the snow.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He could just barely see through the sheets of snow coming down, almost ice, sticking to the car. But he found at least in question, and parked a distance away to approach on foot. Over the edge of the broken guard was the truck; it must have kept sliding after the collision. It was a self-driving truck, and probably couldn’t accommodate accordingly with the conditions.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The driver was dead. No airbag had deployed, and the body lay limp in the seat, hunched over the wheel. In the back, however, Hank detected life.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He managed to pry open the back door, and found a little boy, gravely injured and unconscious, but a stuffed bear still nestled in his arms.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The memories flickered, stacic-y and glitched. Hank stayed with the boy, assessing his injuries and reporting them to the other ambulance that was deployed. Connor could feel the walls shattering; it was the first time Hank deviated. The patrol car was left behind, and Hank rode with the ambulance to the hospital, but he wasn’t allowed to go any further. He wasn’t allowed to visit, or sit in the waiting room, and one of the other law enforcement androids approached him outside with the intention to deactivate him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So he ran. And Zlatko found him. Zlatko invited him inside. Promised to make it better.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he lied. Lied about </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everything rumbled around him, his name being called, like Hank was pulling him back up out of water for air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connor was shaken out of the interface, panting hard, not realizing until after his senses flooded back that he was shivering, like he was there on that cold, winter night. He gripped on to Hank, equally stricken, before crashing into Hank’s chest to hold him, and be held back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought it was all gone,” Hank whispered. “But you found it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All Connor could do was nod, and hold on a little tighter.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“His name was Cole.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Was…” Connor repeated back. “He didn’t make it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They fell into stasis together like that, huddled close and let data and memories interface back and forth between them the whole time. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Comfort, Connor thought. That’s what it felt like.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All the things they couldn’t control, the things that had been thrust upon them, the consequences of which they paid for dearly. At least they weren’t alone now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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